


The Proposal

by quillquiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Romcom!Destiel, The Proposal - Freeform, romcom, the proposal!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of the romantic comedy 'The Proposal', starring our favourite hunter and angel duo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Also found on [tumblr](http://thursdayschild.co.vu/tagged/proposal!au).

“Gentlemen, I… completely understand our predicament.”

Dean waits expectantly in the doorway, frowning when Castiel makes a motion for him to enter the office. His boss’s voice sounds off, and that’s never meant anything good. Dean steps over the threshold cautiously. At his clearly hesitant demeanor, Castiel turns and gives a hard look, clearly telling the other man to relax.

Yeah, not happening.

When Dean finally reaches Castiel’s side, the Harpy pastes on a disconcertingly happy smile. Dean almost grimaces. Thankfully, or unthankfully depending on where you’re standing, Castiel reaches down and threads their fingers together, clenches Dean’s hand in a vice grip. He forces himself to remain completely impassive. “Well,” the Harpy intones, tilting his head to the side in that infuriating way he does. “I suppose, then, there’s something we should tell you.”

The fact that Castiel leans his head on Dean’s shoulder is more disconcerting than both the hand-holding and the smiling.

“We’re getting married.”

Dean almost chokes on his own saliva.

“Married?” Zachariah asks.

“Married,” Castiel affirms. His smile doesn’t move on his face. It’s literally like it’s pasted on. Dean thinks he looks like an automaton. A very attractive, very prickly, very harpy-esque automaton.

Behind him, Naomi raises a brow. “Is he not your secretary?”

Castiel’s laugh is almost as fake as his facial expressions. “Chief secretary,” he corrects cheerily. “Executive chief secretary; titles, you understand… Even so, it wouldn’t be the first time someone fell for a secretary.” He gives Zachariah a pointed look that is, quite frankly, disturbing in its salaciousness. “We’re simply… two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love, but did. And now we’re getting married.”

Dean feels his life flash before his eyes. “…Married…” he says weakly.

Castiel repeats the world firmly. Again. Then, to make matters even more distressing, he swings their hands back and forth and sighs contentedly. Contentedly. As if he’s never been happier but is actually always happy in Dean’s presence, when really, the eldest Winchester is one hundred percent sure the Harpy has never been content about anything. In his entire life. Ever.

“You can’t help a love like ours,” Castiel explains dreamily.

Dean throws up a little in his mouth. Nobody pays attention. But Zachariah does give his blessing, and holds up his left hand. “I love it,” he says. “Just make it legal.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. His voice is almost unnoticeably higher, but Dean picks up on the nervousness easily, as pathetic as that is. “We should make our way to the immigrations office, in that case. Thank you very much, gentlemen. Thank you.”

All Dean can hear at this point is: Married.  _MarriedMarriedMarried. Married. As in, married. To Castiel. Married to Castiel. To the Harpy._

“Come along… Honey.”

Dean is pulled from the office like the spineless puppet he has somehow become.

He ignores the looks and whispers from his coworkers, choosing to continue to panic internally instead of facing the humiliation of the outside. When Castiel sits down at his desk and begins to work like nothing has changed, Dean honestly has no idea what’s happening. And really, he’s never been a religious man, but Dean Winchester is not ashamed to admit that, at that moment, he prays; that it’s a dream, that he’s dead, that he’s high… anything, as long as what he’s living isn’t reality. “I’m… confused,” he finally manages, slowly regaining coherence.

Castiel has the balls to look, of all things, exasperated. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” And no, Dean doesn’t mean to sound ever so slightly hysterical. But he’s apparently marrying Castiel Novak, editor in chief of Pearly Gates Paperback and the Devil’s paramour, so yeah, he’s kind of hanging by a thread. A really thin, really flimsy thread.

“Relax,” Novak mutters, uncapping a highlighter. “This benefits you as well.”

“Yeah, would you mind fillin’ me in on that ‘cause… I’m not seein’ that part,” Dean says, eyeing the other man seriously.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “They were going to make Hester editor.”

“So, obviously, that means I marry you.”

Another eye roll. “Hester would fire you on site,” he explains as if bored with the conversation. “That would make you jobless and no doubt homeless, once you realize you can’t get another job in this economy that doesn’t involve cleaning toilets and can cover your surely meager rent. That means that every coffee, every errand, every late night hamburger run was in vain, Dean. Do you understand? In vain. Are you truly willing to give up all that hard work? Besides,” he sniffs. “You weren’t saving yourself for anyone special.”

“Uh, I like to think I was—”

“A romantic,” Castiel mocks. “How sweet.”

“—Either way, I’m not gonna marry you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Uh, no, I’m not. It’s  _illegal_.”

“Please, they’re looking for terrorists, not book publishers.”

“It’s still not happening.”

“It is,” Castiel says, his tone completely certain. “Because if it isn’t, your big, grand pipe dream of eventually touching people with the written word is dead. And not only is it dead, but you’ll be living homeless and will most likely die of exposure or some tragic disease. Not to worry, once the required amount of time has passed we’ll get a divorce and be done with each other, but until then, like it or not, we are getting married.”

The next thing Dean knows, Castiel is leading him through the doors of the immigration office. He bypasses the line like he owns the place, and gives his name at the counter like everyone should simply know who he is. “Please file this fiancée visa for me,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “Winchester and Novak.”

The clerk looks less than impressed. Dean doesn’t blame him. He does, however, blame him for calling over his superior, and then being herded into a stuffy office piled high with paperwork. While Castiel is busy tripping over himself with forced thanks for the man, Victor Henrickson raises a dubious brow. “I’ll cut straight to the chase, gentlemen.” He points at Dean. “Are you marrying him so he can keep his job as editor in chief at Pearly Gates Paperback?”

Castiel clears his throat delicately to try and offset the rigidity of Dean’s shoulders. “That's very, um, very specific,” he says. “Where did you hear that?”

“We got a tip,” Victor says, refusing to look away from Dean. The eldest Winchester barely breathes. “From a—”

“Hester Milton?”

“—Hester Milton,” the other man finishes.

Castiel apologizes again. “I am so terribly sorry,” he sys. “Hester is a former, disgruntled employee. She was always very jealous of my position and of the relationship Dean and I have. I’m afraid this tip is nothing but the insane ramblings of a very upset person.” He makes his way towards the door. “Now, I’m sure you're very busy with gardeners and cleaning ladies, so we’ll simply get out of your hair.”

“Sit down, Mr. Novak.”

He does.

“So…” Victor is so not convinced. He leans forward, steepling his fingers as he seems to stare into Dean’s very soul. “Let me explain how this is gonna go down. I’m gonna talk to your families, your friends, your neighbours, your coworkers… anyone who has come in contact with you in the past year. I’m gonna look through your phones, your houses, your computers. And if I find anything— _anything_ —to even give me the slightest inkling of a doubt that you two are not completely and madly in love with each other, you’re each gonna get a three hundred-and-fifty thousand dollar fine, in addition to being carted off to federal prison for half a decade.” The officer leans back in his chair then, raising a brow. “Any last remarks? Dean? Is there anything you wanna tell me? It’s now or never.”

Dean clenches his fist underneath the table. Castiel eyes him seriously. “The truth is…” He takes a deep breath. “Truth is… Castiel and I, uh, we’re just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love. But we did.” A beat. And okay, maybe Dean can work with this. “And I mean, it’s not like we could tell anyone, with my big promotion coming up and all."

Castiel does the head tilt thing. Dean still feels like strangling him.

“Promotion?” Victor asks.

“Yeah, uh, we both felt that it’d be…. inappropriate, if I was promoted to editor while we were… ah…"

Castiel’s shock is not plain on his face, but Dean can see it all the same. It makes the desire to kill him abate a little. “Right, yes, the… promotion.”

Victor looks less than impressed. “So, do your families know about your sickening secret puppy love?”

“Oh, not mine,” Castiel says immediately. He almost sounds proud. “My parents are dead. I have no siblings.”

“Okay… What about you, Dean? Do Mom and Dad know about charming Castiel over here?”

“Uh, no, not yet. See—”

“We’re going to tell them this weekend,” Castiel interrupts. “It’s Gammy’s ninetieth birthday, you understand… the entire family is getting together. We were going to break the big news then.” He rests a hand on Dean’s thigh. Dean resists the urge to shake him off.

“Right, right,” Victor says conversationally. “And where is this big reunion happening?”

Castiel switches gears so fast Dean almost thinks they’re caught. “Well, um, I shouldn’t be doing  _all_ the talking here, Honey. Jump in at any time!”

Dean is currently trying to figure out how the hell this became his life. “We’re going to Lawrence,” he explains finally.

“Lawrence,” Castiel parrots happily.

“In Kansas.”

“Kansaaas.” The word is drawn out and almost finished like a question, but luckily Victor doesn’t catch on.

“You’re going to Kansas for the weekend?”

“Yes. That’s where my… that’s where my Dean is from.” He pats Dean’s shoulder awkwardly.

Victor sighs like he’s been done with shit before it even started. Dean is inclined to agree. “Fine, I see how it is,” the officer says. “I’ll see you both at eleven am on Monday morning for your interviews. Your answers better match up.”

And apparently, that’s the end of that.

Castiel seems entirely too nonplussed about the entire thing. In fact, as they walk out of the building, he’s rambling about booking flights and getting the vegan meal… even though his favourite food is hamburgers. Meat hamburgers. Then, he has the gall to get annoyed when Dean isn’t taking notes.

“I’m sorry, were you just in that room?”

“Of course I was. That bit about the promotion was excellent, actually. He completely bought it—”

“I was serious," Dean interrupts. "I’m looking at a huge-ass fine and five years in prison, that changes things. I mean, I’m too pretty for prison.”

Castiel snorts. “It’s not happening.”

“It actually is,” Dean says casually. “Or I walk.”

“I won’t make you editor.”

“Cool. Bye, Castiel, it’s been fun.”

He barely makes it two steps before the Harpy asks him to stop. “Fine,” he grumbles. “You can be editor. As long as you do the Kansas weekend and the interview on Monday, I’ll make you editor.”

“Now,” Dean specifies. “Not in two years. And you’re gonna publish my manuscript.”

“10,000 copies first run.”

“20,000 copies first run, and we’re gonna tell my family about the engagement when I want and how I want. Also, we’re driving.”

“We’re not  _driving,_ ” Castiel hisses. “It’ll take us days to simply get there!”

“We are driving, and we’re listening to my music while we do it.”

“We’re not and I’ll bump you to first class with me. It’s not feasible to get there on time if we drive, Dean.”

“Which is why we’re gonna leave tomorrow. Now, ask me nicely.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ask me nicely…  _to marry you_.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow like he’s deeply unimpressed, and Dean’s shit-eating grin is the biggest he’s had since he started working. It turns into a smirk when Castiel, in his Armani pants, gets on his knees on the New York City sidewalk. “Does this work for you?” he growls.

“Oh yeah, I like this.”

“Oh good, that’s good. As long as you’re happy.” Dean’s smirk widens. “Will you marry me?”

“Uh, no. You sound like you’re constipated. Ask me like you  _mean it_.”

Blue eyes roll so hard, they might just fall out of their owner’s head. “Fine… Dean. Sweet, wonderful, attractive Dean… would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

Dean’s laugh can be described as nothing but a cackle. He tweaks Castiel’s nose obnoxiously, nodding through his gleeful laughter. “Yeah, fine. I’ll pick you up at five tomorrow.”

“F-Five in the evening?”

“Five a.m., dumbass… you actually wanna get there, right?”

But Dean doesn’t wait for an answer. He walks off into the hustle and bustle of the city, head held high and smiling because he literally cannot stop.

Of course, tomorrow he’s probably screwed… But for now, Dean Winchester’s on top of the world.

Fuck yeah.

~ * ~

“You mean to tell me you know the answer to every single one of these questions?”

Dean’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Not pathetic. He is not pathetic. He is a good employee and that is  _not pathetic_. “Scary, ain’t it?”

Castiel scoffs. “You can’t know all of these.”

“And yet somehow I do.”

“Fine. What am I allergic to?”

Dean sighs. “Shellfish, pine nuts and the entire spectrum of human emotion.”

The Harpy’s jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth, but he swallows down whatever acid was burning up his throat and clenches his fists instead. “Funny,” he bites. “I had no idea you were a comedian. Here’s one: do I have any scars?”

Dean purses his lips. “No, but I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo.”

“Are you?”

“Yup. I think it was… yeah, like two years ago, your dermatologist called and asked about Q-switched laser. Having no idea what the fuck that meant, I Googled it. Turns out that a Q-switched laser removes tattoos… But then you cancelled your appointment.” Dean smirks, turning to Cas with a shit-eating grin. “So, what is it? Tribal ink? A butterfly? A spring break dolphin?”

Castiel is fuming.

“You gotta at least tell me where it is.”

“I’m not.”

“They’re gonna ask.”

“Moving on.”

“Castiel—”

“Moving  _on_. Oh, here we go: whose residence do we stay at? Simple: mine.”

“Woah woah, why yours?”

Castiel heaves a large sigh. “Because  _I_  live in Central Park West,” he says condescendingly. “While I’m willing to bet that you live a squalid little studio apartment with a stack of yellowed Penguin Classics.”

Dean grips the steering wheel even more tightly.

Three more hours. Just three more hours.

***

The low timbre of Castiel’s panicked voice is probably the sweetest thing Dean’s ever heard. He’s practically having a heart attack, and all because they’ve pulled into Dean’s parents’ driveway and are walking towards the door. “Where are we? Why aren’t we at our hotel? Dean, we need to check in—”

“Look, my mom would tear me a new one if I didn’t come here first, okay? We’ll check in later.”

“Dean Winchester—”

“DEAN WINCHESTER!”

Immediately, both men swivel around. Coming down the porch steps of Dean’s small, picturesque childhood home is Gammy. She hobbles over to Dean and engulfs him in a hug, pulling away to cup his face and kiss his cheeks. “Well hey there, Stranger. Long time, no see!”

“Hey, Gammy.”

“Dean!”

Mary Winchester descends the steps next, waiting for her mother to release her son before throwing her arms around her eldest. Dean automatically buries his face in her neck. “Mom,” he sighs.

“How are you? You doing okay in the city?”

“Yeah, I’m good. How’s Sam?”

“He’ll be out any minute. He was really upset you couldn’t make the engagement party last month.”

“I know, Mom. But there was so much going on at work—”

She cuts him off with a kiss to his forehead, smiling at Dean like he personally hung the moon. “I know, Baby. I just wish you were around more.”

“How’s Dad?”

But Dean never gets his answer.

“Dean,” Gammy interrupts. “You want to introduce us to your boy?”

Reality is like a bucket of ice water. “Right. Yeah, of course, um… Mom, Gammy, this is Castiel.”

“Cas, this is my mom and my gammy Deanna.”

“Deanna?”

“Family name,” the older woman smiles sweetly. “Now, Cas, do you prefer Castiel or Satan’s paramour? We’ve heard it both ways. Actually, we’ve heard it a lot of ways—”

_“_ I—Pardon?”

“Oooookay,” Dean interrupts. “She’s kidding. Let’s go inside. Everyone? ”

Except when Dean enters the house, everyone is in it. Everyone. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Rufus, Grandpa Campbell, Victor, Benny, Andrea, Charlie… the old haunt is all there; eating pizza and drinking beer and lounging on every single available surface.

“Dean!”

Impossibly, Sam has grown. He’s this big, muscled guy with long hair and the same dimpled smile Dean remembers. He has to hunch a little to give Dean a bear hug, and Dean is so caught up in it that he doesn’t notice the gorgeous blonde girl standing behind his brother until Sam pulls away. “Dean,” Sammy says, voice soft as he wraps a huge arm around the girl. “This is my fiancée, Jess.”

“No fucking way. Sammy, she’s…” Dean can’t seem to stop smiling. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Jess steps forward and hugs him. “It’s great to finally meet you,” she grins. “I’ve heard so many stories, it’s nice to put a face to a name.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

Castiel, from behind Dean, clears his throat obnoxiously. Dean barely resists rolling his eyes. “Right. This is Cas.” Roughly, Dean loops an arm around the Harpy’s waist and pastes on a fake smile, roughly pulling the other man into his side. “He’s my… I mean, we’re…”

“Significant other,” Castiel says. “Dean is my significant other.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, too,” Jess grins. Sam, on the other hand, doesn’t look half as impressed. In fact, he looks suspicious. “Cas as in Castiel?”

“Yes.”

“As in Castiel Novak?”

“The very same.” Cas’s chest puffs up proudly, but Dean knows the looks in Sam’s eyes, and it’s not one of admiration. He nearly face palms at his boss’s complete lack of social skills.

“You kept Dean the weekend of the twenty-fifth.”

But Castiel is as oblivious as ever. “In September? Yes, we were closing a major deal with Chuck Shurley. It was very difficult, very high priority and—”

“He missed my engagement party for you.”

Dean can see the exact moment Cas realizes his faux-pas, mostly because his turns white as a sheet. “He…pardon?”

“He missed my engagement party. For you. Because you couldn’t give him the weekend off.”

But before Cas can open his mouth and dig himself an even deeper grave, Jess is leaning up to murmur in Sam’s ear and stroke his sides. She turns to Castiel with a smile that’s just a little bit too wide. “Well, congratulations on closing the deal,” she says kindly. “We should really go help Mary in the kitchen. We’ll talk later, Dean?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s—Yeah.”

As soon as they’re out of sight, Castiel rounds on him. “Why didn’t you stop me?!” he fumes. “I made an ass of myself! You just left me to flounder!”

Dean frowns. Cas pokes him harshly in the chest. “I swear to God, Dean Winchester, you’re absolutely useless! As if it isn’t bad enough that we’re stuck in suburbia with twenty people in a house clearly only big enough for fifteen! I—”

“Fuck,  _shut up_.”

Cas’s jaw hangs on its hinges. “ _Excuse me_?”

“I said  _shut up_ ,” Dean hisses. “Look, this bickering thing isn’t getting us anywhere, okay? So, my house is small, so what? These people are my family, and it’s your damn fault we’re in this mess to begin with, so suck it the fuck up. We need to make people believe we’re in  _love_ , asshole. And for me? Easy. I can totally play the whole doting fiancée. But for  _you_? It’s gonna mean you stop bitching every five seconds and snacking on small children while they dream.”

“Funny,” Cas glares. “When are you going to tell everyone?”

“I’ll know when the right time comes.”

“Brilliant. Just like that stunt with the promotion?”

“Hey, you said it was  _genius_.”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Dean, you’re not a genius. You’re an assistant.”

“And now I’m an editor.”

“Not yet.”

“An  _editor_ ,” a voice says from behind. “Well now, ain’t that fancy.”

Dean exhales through his nose. Slowly. “Dad.”

“Son.” An awkward pause. “So, this must be Castiel.”

“Cas,” the Harpy offers, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me John,” John insists. “And the pleasure’s all mine. So, what’s this I hear about Dean being an editor?”

“Oh, not yet,” Cas says. “He’s still my assistant for the time being.”

John’s smirk can be interpreted as nothing but cruel. “Well, how ‘bout that.”

Dean’s smile is tight. “Cas, we’re just gonna get a drink. Come on, Dad.”

They throw everyone out of the kitchen.

“Hell of a first impression, Dad,” Dean seethes, letting go of his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“What the fuck, Dean?”

“What?”

But John looks livid. “You show up after all this time with a man you hated, and what, now he’s your boyfriend? And a  _boyfriend_! Son, what in the hell…” He shakes his head. “Just never figured you for a guy who slept his way to the middle.”

Dean is done. One hundred percent done. Growling, he points in Cas’s direction. “Just FYI, that man in there is one of the most respected editors in the country. He’s—”

“He’s your meal ticket, and you brought him home to meet your mother!”

“Nah,” Dean says. “Nah, he’s not my meal ticket, Dad. He’s my fiancée.”

“What did you say?” John’s voice is freakishly calm.

“You heard me. I’m getting married.”

And then Dean strides into the den and starts banging on Bobby’s beer bottle with a fork. “Everybody? Hey, hi, can I get your attention? Thanks. Thank you.”

Castiel is off to the side stuffing his face with a piece of pineapple pizza. He looks vaguely nauseated and Dean does not give two fucks. “Me and Cas are getting married.”

The Harpy looks about ready to kill him.

“Yeah, so… Cas? Babe, where you at?”

Carefully, Castiel makes his way to Dean’s side, trying not to bite out insults at Dean’s little terms of endearment. The next few minutes is a whirlwind of congratulations and happy smiles, but it isn’t until a gorgeous, dark-haired woman comes along that everything goes to hell.

“Lisa? Holy shit, hi! Hey. Wow, this is… wow. How are you? I had no idea you were gonna be here!”

Lisa shrugs, a perfect, cute little smile on her face. Cas has no idea why, but he hates her. “I think your mom wanted it to be a surprise, so… surprise!”

“Right.”

“Oh gosh, we’re being so rude.” Lisa turns to Castiel then. “Hi, I’m—”

“This is Lisa, my ex.”

Cas shakes her hand carefully. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise. Well, congrats, you guys! So, did I miss the story?”

The story Lisa is talking about is the way the proposal happened… and it’s an absolute disaster. First, Dean begins by saying that he was the one who proposed, but that Cas loves to tell the story so he should do it. It seems like a fool-proof, fail-safe plan.

Except Castiel is a little shit.

He quickly weaves a tale that emasculates Dean so thoroughly, his man-card starts to hurt. “So, I opened that beautiful, handmade little decoupage box your son made for me, and I dug through the mountains of handcut heart confetti and underneath, at the very bottom, I saw…”

“Nothing.” Dean interrupts smoothly. “He saw a big, fat, nothing. No ring. Bu, inside that box, under all that crap, was a little handwritten note with the address to a hotel, date, time… masculine, y’know? Anyway, Cas—”

“I thought he was seeing someone else,” Castiel jumps in. The crowd gasps. “Yes, it was truly a terrible time for me. But I went to the hotel anyway, and when I entered the room, there was your son—”

“Standing—”

“ _Kneeling_ —”

“Like a man—”

“On a bed of roses. He was dressed in a tuxedo and choked back soft, soft sobs… and when he held back tears and finally caught his breath, he said to me…”

“‘Cas, will you marry me?’ And he said, ‘Yep.’ The end.”

“Well,” Mary says. “That was… quite a story.”

“Dean, you’re so sensitive!” Gammy chimes in.

And then Charlie, shit disturber that she is, holds up her beer in mock-salute. “Let’s see a kiss from you two cuties, huh?!”

“Um…we’re really, kinda, uh, private, so…”

“Oh come onnnn,” Jo teases. “Give him a kiss!”

“Yeah, Dean, kiss him!”

“Do it!”

“Kiss him!”

“Come on!”

Dean groans. “Jesus Christ, ALL RIGHT!!” He turns to Cas. “Okay, here we go…” And gives Cas a tiny little kiss on his cheek.

Everybody groans.

“That’s so frickin’ cheap! Again!”

“Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”

“Fuckin'—fine! God, you’re all vultures. All of you.” He leans in. Cas’s eyes are wide.

“You okay?” Dean whispers.

“No.”

“Great.”

A big, sugary, wet kiss lands on Cas’s lips. More groaning.

Gammy Deanna rolls her eyes. “Dean, give your boy a real kiss!”

Ugh. Dean turns to Cas properly, setting his shoulders as he keeps his hand firmly at his sides. “Let’s just do it, okay?” he breathes. “Really fast.”

Castiel clenches his jaw and nods once, determinedly. “Okay.”

“Cool. Uh, I’ll just…” He leans in, humming dramatically as their lips meet, Cas leaning back a little too far. Dean wraps an around his boss’s waist to steady him, but oddly, finds that the more they stay pressed together, the more Cas relaxes, the more it’s kinda… nice. Castiel is warm and smells like coffee and books, and Dean honestly doesn’t remember who moves their lips first, but suddenly they’re kind of really kissing. Cas’s fingers entwine with his and the other man hums just quiet enough for only Dean to hear and Dean’s stomach is flip-flopping and it’s in knots and it’s so  _good_ —

“Yeah, get it, Dean!”

“Joanna Beth!”

And the moment is gone. Dean and Cas pull away from each other quickly, Dean holding up their joined hand as if in victory before they step back and lose all contact. Cas’s face is flushed pink and his mouth is a little swollen. He looks adorable.

But Dean isn’t thinking about that. Really. Dean is too busy touching his tingling lips and frowning, because seriously?

_What the **fuck**_?

~ * ~

Dean has had a hell of a morning. It started with Cas knocking over practically every item on his bedside table to get to his Blackberry, was followed by the Harpy stepping all over him in his haste to talk to Chuck privately and outside, and ended with Dean not-so-subtly hugging/groping Castiel to keep up appearances while the hotshot editor fumed in silence at the entire affair.

Currently, Dean is stomping towards the garage.

“Dean, don’t you dare walk away from me, boy!”

Dean whirls around towards his father, glaring. “You know what? I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I’m not the son you wanted me to be. I’m sorry that I don’t wanna spend my life managing your repair shops. I’m sorry I don’t wanna stay here and do paperwork. I’m sorry I’m the eldest and I could never live up to what you wanted, because for fuck’s sake, Dad, who ever could?!”

“Language—”

“No. No, I’m done, okay?! You don’t approve of my choices? Fine. You don’t approve of Cas? Fine. But leave it the hell alone.”

Dean gets his tools and slams them next to his baby, turning on the shitty garage radio and blasting AC/DC.

Fuck. Every goddamn time.

***

Castiel, meanwhile, is freaking out. And freaking out is putting it mildly.

A day on the town with the girls, Dean had said. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything. Everything could go wrong.

And by ‘Everything’, Cas means ‘Gabriel’.

Gabriel is a stripper. After lunch and going to every single wedding store in Lawrence (which Cas is honestly offended by, he hates shopping and wedding stuff and they’re treating him like a  _bride_ ), Mary and Gammy Deanna and Jo and Lisa and Charlie take Castiel to a  _stripclub_. “C’mon, your last days as a free man,” Jo had teased. “Get some while you still can!”

Cas understands that this strip club thing is generally tradition, but he hates it. He hates it like the hates the taste and smell of Gabriel’s coconut body oil.

And Castiel  _hates_ coconut.

But if Dean can play his role, so can he, and Cas forces a smile and touches his scantily clad stripper while trying not to protest. When he sees an opening to get some air, however, he takes it.

By this time, it’s beginning to get dark. Castiel leans on the rusting railing by the backdoor of the club, taking deep breath of fresh, clean air as he looks down. It isn’t a far drop, and he briefly wonders how far he’d get before the ladies would find him. He’s very tempted to try and make it back to Dean’s house. Or rather, his parents’ house. His parents’ house where they are currently staying because apparently: ‘family doesn’t stay in a hotel’.

These people are abnormal.

“Hey, there you are!” It’s Lisa. She leans on the bar next to him, all kind and welcoming smiles. “How’re you holding up?”

“Fine,” Castiel replies stiffly. “I’m—I’m fine.”

Lisa nods sagely. “Yeah, the Winchesters can be a little overwhelming at times.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cas agrees. He feels all his breath whoosh out of him at the admission, and thinks that maybe he was too quick at hating Lisa yesterday. She’s beautiful and kind and obviously intelligent and intuitive. “Yes, it’s quite… something.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” A grin. “…Must be a little different than new York, huh?”

Cas nods. “That’s one way of putting it. Have you… ever been? To New York, I mean.”

Lisa shakes her head. “Nah. That was always Dean’s dream, not mine.”

“You two must have been serious.”

“Well, we dated through high school and college, but we were kids, you know?”

“Yes.” But Cas doesn’t know at all. The longest relationship he’s ever been in, he is currently living. And it’s fake. “Why did you stop seeing each other?”

Lisa raises a brow. The fact that she clearly thinks it’s a bold question completely goes over Castiel’s head. “The night before we graduated college, Dean proposed,” she sighed. “He said he wanted to elope and run away with me to New York, and…”

Cas frowns. “You said ‘no’.”

“I said ‘no’,” Lisa agrees. “I’ve never been anywhere but here, Castiel. This is home.”

Cas is quiet, mostly because his brain is working a mile a minute. How could someone give Dean up just because they didn’t want to change places? Sure, he’s annoying, and Castiel might be hard on him, but Dean Winchester is an incredible person. He’s loyal to fault, he’s dependable, he’s kind… Cas can begrudgingly admit he’s attractive. Dean seems, for all intents and purposes to be the perfect mate. How could anyone romantically involved with him turn him down?

“Anyway, you’re a lucky guy…” Lisa says. “He really is the best, but you already know that.”

And maybe Cas does.

***

When they get home, it’s dark, and Dean is in the garage. He’s sweating under harsh, bright lights, tinkering with tools and listening to angry-sounding music. Castiel tries not to stare. He succeeds, but walks into the house to find himself almost directly in the middle of an argument between Dean’s parents:

“What did you do?”

“Me? Mary, I didn’t do a damn thing. I just had a frank conversation with the boy about his future.”

“Oh, great! That’s a  _great_  idea, John! Genius. He will never come back home now. He is my son, and I only get to see him every three years because of you, and now--”

“Hey now, that’s not—”

“You know damn well how true it is! And you know what? I’ve had enough. You’re gonna be supportive of his decisions and of his marriage to Castiel, and that’s that.”

“Mary—”

“No. Y’know, John, if we’re not careful, we’re gonna end up in this house, just you and me and everything we’re angry about. Hell, you’ve already ostracized Sam! And god forbid either of them have a grandchild that we never get to see!”

“A grandchild?! Mary, open your eyes! Sam and Jess, maybe, but Dean!? He is marrying a  _man_ —”

“Yes. And that's something you better get on board with real quick. Now, go fix it.”

“Mary—”

“ _Now_.”

Castiel slips away.

He makes a beeline for the shower, washing off Gabriel’s coconut body oil from his skin until he’s pink and raw. He feels good after that; clean… but when Cas steps out of the shower, he realizes he forgot a towel. “Oh, crap.”

What kind of bathroom only has a hand towel?!

Poking his head into the hallway, Cas looks around before deeming it safe. He doesn’t know where the towels are, but he has one in his suitcase. He just needs to get to Dean’s room.

With the hand towel covering his manly bits, Castiel makes a beeline for his assistant’s room. He mages to get the door open without being seen, and is spinning around from having it closed when he crashes into Dean himself.

Dean is very naked.

“What the fuck?!?”

Castiel is as red as a garden tomato. “Why are you naked?!”

“Why are you  _wet_?!”

They’re on the floor at this point, gripping tightly to each other before Castiel manages to push himself from Dean’s arms, covering himself with his hands as best as possible. “Don’t look at me!”

Dean might watch Cas’s cute little tush as he scrambles to shield himself on the other side of the bed. Maybe. “What… I don’t get it. Why are you wet?"

“What are you  _naked_?” Cas demands. “Don’t look at me!”

Dean raises a brow.

“Oh sweet Lord, you’re showing everything. Cover it up! For the love of all that is Holy, cover it!” When Cas finally manages to wrap a blanket around himself, Dean has  _his towel_  slung low on his hips. Castiel feels like dying. “Explain yourself!”

“Explain myself?”

“Yes. Explain yourself.”

Dean snorts incredulously “I was getting changed. In my room.”

“Really?! And you didn’t hear the door open?!”

“Well, you kinda blew in here like some really naked hurricane, so it’s not like I had time to duck and cover!”

Cas glares. “Just… just go.”

“Go.”

“Yes. Please, just… shower. Go shower. You stink.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” He then makes his way to door. Stopping with his hand on the knob, Dean turns back with a smirk. He’d been shocked that Cas was naked, yeah, but he wasn’t  _blind_. The dude was hot; all lean, corded muscle with a perky ass and sharp hipbones… and that was excluding the two wings inked over his shoulder blades and down his triceps. “Nice tattoo, by the way.”

Cas looks panicked. “What?” 

But Dean is already gone.

~ * ~

“So naked.”

“Would you stop?”

“So…  _so_  naked.”

From his place on the ground, Dean hears Castiel slam his fists down on the mattress. He very obviously takes a deep, cleansing breath before opening his mouth. “What’s the deal with you and your father?”

Ha! No. “Nope.”

“Dean, I need to know. If they ask—”

“They won’t, and that question isn’t in the binder. So back off.”

“If I’m not mistaken,  _you’re_  the one who insisted we know everything about each other.”

“Well, this doesn’t count as ‘everything’, okay? Go to sleep.”

Dean stares up at the ceiling.

“I like the psychic network,” Cas says, out of the blue. “And not in the ironic way, I actually quite enjoy it.”

“What?”

“I took… etiquette lessons in the sixth grade. I’ve never been to a concert unless you count going to symphony orchestras. I think Brian Dennehy is sexy… I don’t like flowers in the house because they remind me of funerals. I’ve never played a video game. I read Wuthering Heights every Christmas without fail. It’s not my favourite book but I’m a stickler for tradition. My favourite song is ‘I want you Back’ by The Jackson 5. I, um, I haven’t had sexual intercourse in over a two years because my parents' homophobic remarks still haunt me years after their deaths… And my relationship with you is probably the healthiest one I’ve ever had, and it’s poison. At least, for you it is.”

Dean is quiet for a long time. “…And the wing tattoos?”

“Angel wings. After my parents died, I got them to remind myself that the sky is the limit… and because I am named after the angel of Thursday, I thought that my back would be an appropriate location for them. I was young and foolish.” Cas takes a deep breath. “I’m sure there are many,  _many_ other things, but that’s all I can think of at the moment.”

Dean is dumbstruck.

“Dean? Are you there?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Just, um, just processing. Shit… you really haven’t slept with someone in over two years?”

Castiel’s hands move to cover his eyes. “Is that really all you got out of that?”

“Cas, that’s a really long time.”

“Well, I’ve been busy.”

Dean bites his lip through the smile that slowly creeps up his face. “So… The Jackson 5, huh?”

An exasperated sigh. “Yes.”

“Can you sing a few bars or—”

Cas lops a pillow at Dean’s head, grinning when the other man clearly grunts through a smile of his own. “ _Goodnight, Dean_.”

“Night, Cas.”

***

When Castiel next wakes, it’s to the sound of Mary Winchester knocking on the door. “Room service!”

Cas’s blood almost freezes in his veins. “Dean!” he whisper yells. “Dean!”

“Go th’fuck back t’sleep.”

“Dean, your mother’s at the door, get up here!”

“Wha’?”

“Get. Up. Here.”

Dean manages to scramble onto his twin bed, wrapping an arm around Cas’s waist and spooning him. As soon as the other feels something hard against his backside, Castiel freaks out. “For the love of God, Dean!”

“What?” Dean hisses back. “It’s morning!”

“That’s no excuse! You’re disgusting!”

“Oh my God, are you serious right now?”

“Boys?” Mary calls. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, Mom!” Dean yells back. “Just gives us a sec!” He rounds on Cas then. “Please, like you don’t have it, too.”

“I most certainly do not—Argh!”

Dean has reached around and gripped Castiel’s morning wood. “See?” Dean breathes into Cas’s neck.

Castiel is frozen solid. His eyes flutter shut against the sensation of being touched, his breath whooshing out in a groan as he, instinctively, pushes into the heat bleeding through his pyjama pants. He tries to keep his breathing steady, but then Dean’s fingers move, brushing and stroking and rubbing up against his ass and it feels so  _good_ —

“Dean, baby, the tray is getting heavy!”

The spell is broken. Cas tries to jump out of Dean’s arms but his fiancée holds him fast, turning to the door just in time for it to squeak open. Castiel’s face is flushed ten different kinds of red and he pastes on a smile, though it looks more embarrassed than anything else. Under the sheets, Dean is thumbing his hipbone where his shirt has ridden up.

“Hey, Mom. Smells awesome.”

“Cinnamon rolls,” Mary grins, setting the tray down for them.

And Castiel feels even more embarrassed. “Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble,” he says. “We would have been fine with eating toast downstairs.”

Mary’s smile is soft and wonderful. “You’re family now, Cas,” she shrugs. “No trouble at all.”

“Hey, got room for one more?” And just like that, the sweet moment is interrupted by none other than John Winchester. Dean is mortified.

“Wow,” he groans. “Can we not do the whole Brady family meeting thing right now, guys? We just got up, and we’re still kinda out of it.”

John isn’t having it. “Dean, your mother and I have come up with a proposition for you boys, and I happen to think it’s a terrific idea.”

Dean thinks he’s going to have a panic attack. His dad’s propositions aren’t usually good ideas.

“We want you to get married here tomorrow!” Mary jumps in, excited.

Castiel, in complete shock, is absolutely no help at all. His jaw opens and closes like he doesn’t know what a word is, let alone how to form them. Dean, on the other hand, can’t seem to expand his current vocabulary past to the words ‘what’ and ‘no’.

“Well,” Mary continues. “We figure you’re gonna get married anyway, so why not here where we can all be together? And that way Gammy Deanna can be part of it.”

As if on cure, Deanna herself strolls into the room. Dean is ready for the Earth to swallow him whole. “No, Mom. I mean, just…”

“It’s Gammy’s birthday tomorrow,” Cas cuts in. “We don’t want to take that away from her.”

Deanna smiles. “Boy, I’ve had 89 birthday parties, I don’t need another one! It would be a dream come true to see my Dean’s wedding. We never thought it would happen and now that it is I wouldn’t miss it for all the booze and gumbo in the world!”

“Charming,” Cas says under his breath.

Dean elbows him. “Gammy—”

“Dean Winchester, I am almost 90 years old, how long you think I have left, huh?! Are you going to deny an old woman her dying wish?”

“You’re not dying!”

“You don’t know that!” Gammy insists. “Hell, I could go in my sleep tonight, and then how would you feel?”

Cas breaks first. “…Okay, of course. Of course we’ll get married tomorrow.”

Deanna smiles. “Your boy’s got a good head on his shoulders, Dean. And don’t you worry, we’ll take care of everything.”

Dean’s smile is so very clearly fake. “ _Awesome_.”

“And you can get married under the cherry tree, like us,” Mary gushes.

“It’s a Winchester family tradition,” Gammy adds sagely.

“That sounds… wonderful,” Castiel replies. “Cherry tree. That’s—yes, very nice. I’ve always wanted to be married outside.”

Which is the biggest lie ever. Castiel wants a civil ceremony with one witness and for the whole thing to be over, but if he squints and turns his head to the side, he can see the appeal of getting married under a cherry tree. Or he would have been able to, if the damn thing wasn't dead and split in two by a bolt of lightning. Apparently, it’s good luck.

Everyone shuffles out of the room soon after, and it’s seconds after the door clicks shut that Dean has a very minor panic attack. “Oh my God. Oh  _fuck_. Shitcrapfuck.  _Fuck_. When my mom finds out this whole thing is a lie… she’s gonna be crushed. Oh fuck. And Gammy? Gammy’s gonna have a heart attack. She’s gonna die. I’m gonna end up  _killing my own grandmother_.”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel says firmly. “No one will find out.”

“And my dad? Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Your mother probably talked him into it. It’s fine, they’re not going to find out.”

“Fuck, Cas! We’re—and this—”

Castiel grabs Dean’s face and forces eye contact, squeezing his cheeks together. “You listen to me, Dean Winchester.  _Nobody will find out_. You’re smart, you’re an excellent actor, and you remember the most asinine facts about my life. It’ll all be fine, okay? Relax.” Cas’s hands have gone soft, thumbs gently brushing over freckled cheekbones. “Besides, it’s not as if we’ll be married forever… we’ll be happily divorced before you know it.”

“Yeah. Okay. Right. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Are you alright?”

Dean nods. Cas’s hands slip off his face, fingers combing once through Dean’s hair before resting in his lap, their fingertips brushing carefully. They stare at each other for a while until reality bleeds between them; Castiel is sitting too close and Dean is leaning towards him too much. Pulling away, Castiel slides out of bed and grabs a cinnamon roll from the tray, wrapping it in a napkin. “I-I’m going to go for a walk,” he says, a little shaky.

“Yeah, okay.”

Cas eats his cinnamon roll on the fly.

It’s delicious.

~ * ~

“Okay. Alright. Focus. Just focus, Castiel. You just have to focus. This is business deal. Business. Yes, he’s attractive. Yes, he’s sweet and kind. He’s also your assistant. This is also a  _business deal_.” Gritting his teeth, Castiel stops, glaring down at his crotch as if it’s personally affronted him. “Business deal,” he repeats for his penis’s benefit.

He keeps walking. He walks up and down the street and sits on a swing in a dilapidated nearby park before making his way back. The Winchester’s have a surprisingly large yard and that’s where Cas heads next.

It’s also where he finds Deanna Winchester stripping and cleaning some fairly large guns.

“Cas, honey, hi!”

Castiel isn’t sure if he wants to move closer or further away from the gun wielding octogenarian.

“Come sit, baby.”

Cas does. He slides onto the other end of Deanna’s bench, looking at her deft movement with wide blue eyes. When the older lady catches his stare, she smirks triumphantly. “Impressive, huh? I’m the best shot this family’s ever seen. Can shoot skeet from… well, from pretty damn far. I’m old—don’t need to remember distances anymore.” She smiles then. “You wanna help?”

“Me? Ah, no. Thank you, but I’m not—”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it!” she insists. “Taught Dean when he was real young… we’d go shoot cans in the back woods over there when he was little.”

“Oh.”

Castiel’s discomfort must be plain on his face, because Deanna stops in her deft motions and turns to face the editor completely. “Look,” she says. “I know we’re probably a shock to you; a big shot New York City editor ain’t got no business hangin’ out with rednecks—”

“Oh, no, you’re not—”

“I am, a little bit,” she smirks. “And that’s okay. I’m not ashamed of it. I can shoot and hunt and cook for an army but I’ve also helped build our garage business from the ground up. I was the one who did all the marketing and the paperwork, and I was the extra set of hands when that damn Rufus showed up drunk and useless.” A sigh. “What I’m tryin’ to say, baby, is that I’m sure bein’ here is a shock. I’m sure you ain’t used to everything that goes on around here. We’re noisy and we’re stubborn and John’s a mean drunk. But when we love… we love the hell outta each other.” Deanna smiles. “Just remember that. And remember that Dean, arrogant jerk that he is, isn’t all that, really. He’s a sweet boy, Castiel, and he hasn’t given up on his dream any more than you’ve given up on yours.”

“I don’t…”

She nods sagely. “But you know all of that, don’t you?”

Cas swallows thickly, and nods. He’s trying not to feel violated. More than that, he’s trying to figure out that Deanna meant about having a dream, because Cas doesn’t do them. Not since he came out to his parents.

Cas and Deanna spend the rest of the morning cleaning and stripping guns.

***

“Hey, whatcha—Cas, what are you doing?”

Cas barely looks up from his work, tongue poking out between his teeth in utter concentration as Deanna smiles at him fondly. “He’s a natural, Dean.”

“Gammy, you’ve got Castiel Novak putting a 1911 Colt back together.”

“Yup.”

“Huh. Uh, hey, Cas?”

“Mmhm?”

“You feel like going into town? I gotta get some stuff for dinner tonight.”

At the mention of town, Cas’s head shoots up like a rocket. “Town?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes! Yes, I’d love to go. Deanna, thank you for the lesson, I just—”

The old woman merely waves them off. “You two go on. Get something good.”

And that’s that.

Fifteen minutes later, Castiel finds himself walking through the aisles of a Farm Fresh, eyes lingering on the colourful produce. They move into desserts and Dean stops in front of an apple pie, biting his lip and looking entirely too torn. “Fun fact about Dean #11: I love pie. I love it. Pie and fries and burgers and… Kit-Kats! Fuck, I love me some Kit-Kats. And Coke, not Pepsi.”

Cas’s grin is more fond than mean. “What are you, a thirteen year-old boy?”

“Come on, I didn’t say pop rocks,” Dean smirks. “I think that gets me to at least fifteen.”

“CASTIEL!”

Immediately, both men turn. When Cas sees who it is, he grabs Dean’s arm like a lifeline.

Because it’s Gabriel.

Gabriel is sauntering over, a Farm Fresh apron over his white t-shirt as he grins through his cherry lollipop. “Hiya.”

Cas’s wave is timid and awkward, and he threads his fingers through Dean’s in some misguided attempt at defence. “Uh… hello.” Dean, surprisingly, only tightens his fingers when Gabriel gives Castiel a once over.

“You, uh, you doin’ okay, Angel?” Gabe asks, tongue licking suggestively over the sweet in his hands.

“Actually,” Dean says, snarky. “ _Angel_  and I were just getting some stuff for dinner. Right, honey?” He gives a fake smile. “Dinner. At my house. With my family. Because we’re getting married.”

Gabriel smirks, lollipop rolling around in his mouth as his brows almost hit his hairline. “Married, huh?”

“Yeah, married.”

They walk away hand in hand.

…And stay like that until the groceries are done.

In fact, it’s only when they’re heading out towards the parking lot that Dean lets go, and he mostly does so out of shock than anything else.

“There you are!”

Apparently, since Dean only has one tux, they need to rent one for Cas. And Dean isn’t allowed to tag along because it’s bad luck. So, Cas gets herded off into town with his mother and grandma. He gets shoved into itchy tuxedos that look nothing like the fitted, soft things he has at home, and is subjected to being cooed over and prodded at while Dean’s family chatters about birthdays and New Years and Thanksgiving.

“I was thinking,” Mary says sweetly, her smile so like Dean’s. “That maybe, this year, we could head up your way for the holidays.”

For some reason, being asked directly makes Castiel’s breath stutter. He fumbles with his cuffs, ducking his head as he smiles an affirmation. “Yes. Yes, that would be… wonderful. Or—we could always come down to see you.”

“We would love that,” Mary says, elated.

Inexplicably, Castiel feels his insides warm. It gets ten times worse when grandma Deanna carefully clasps an abstract pin onto the lapel of his jacket. “It’s tradition in my family to have the bride and groom wear matching pins,” she says softly, straightening his tie. “Usually, the bride has it hidden in her hair or the pleats of her dress, but here we’ll get to see it.” Nodding in satisfaction, the older woman turns Castiel towards the full-length mirror. “You look so handsome, Cas.”

But Castiel can’t seem to speak.

“The story’s quite somethin’, too,” she continues. “See, my great-great-great-grandmother fell in love with a man she shouldn’t have, and they saw each other in secret until his daddy found out. He was gonna send her away, but the lovebirds ran away before the bastard could get them, armed with nothin’ but a rifle, a pony, and picnic basket with two sandwiches and a wad of cash. They used the money to get these pins made, and they’re identical to symbolize that, though they came from different worlds, they were exactly the same. And good for each other.”

Castiel touches the pin delicately.

“...I want you to have it, sweetheart.”

Blue eyes widen. “Oh, no, I can’t. I couldn’t. I—”

“Castiel, I won’t take no for an answer.” The old woman brushes her fingers across Cas’s cheek then, her smile as sweet as Mary’s. “Grandmothers love to give things to their grandchildren… It makes us feel like we’ll still be part of your lives, even when we’re gone. Keep it.”

Castiel’s eyes sting.

“Cas, honey, are you alright?”

“I… yes, I just—I need some air.”

“Sure thing. Let’s just get you outta that monkey suit first.”

The next thing Cas knows, he’s running down the street. His heart his pounding and he’s breaking out into a cold sweat, his feet hitting the pavement  hard as his tie whips past his face. He can hear Dean behind him but doesn’t slow. Not when he begins to feel rain. Not when the sky open up and soaks him through.

But eventually Dean catches up.

He tackles Castiel to the ground, holding him in place as the other man halfheartedly tries to get away.

“Cas?! Cas!”

“I just need to get away!”

“Hey, calm down. Talk to me.”

“I can’t do this. It’s too much. The pin and the story and Christmas it’s all  _too much_ —”

“Cas! Slow down for a sec and  _talk to me_.”

“I FORGOT, OKAY?!”

Dean stills, only holding Castiel more tightly when he buries his face into his neck, sniffling. “…I forgot what it was like to have a family.”

Silence.

“I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen and I forgot what it felt like to have people who love you and make you breakfast and invite you for the holidays and give you symbolic pins and you have all that, Dean! You have that here, and you have Lisa, and I’m just—I’m messing it up!”

“You’re not! I agreed to this, remember?”

“Your family loves you, do you know that?”

“Yeah, of course I do!”

“And you’re willing to put them through this?”

“They’re not gonna find out!”

“How do you know!?”

“Cas, you said so yourself—”

But Castiel isn’t listening. “What if your mother… Oh God, if your mother found out. Or Gammy! Or your brother! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my  _God—_ ”

“SHUT UP.”

Cas quiets.

“Look,” Dean says, voice suddenly soft and warm. He cradles Cas’s face like he’s something precious; something to be treasured. “We’re gonna be okay. And you’re okay. And either way, we’ll get through this together, right? As a team. But you’re okay, Cas. It’s gonna be fine. I promise, everything’s gonna be fine.”

They tromp back to the house soaking wet and holding hands, Cas tucked into Dean’s side.

~ * ~

Castiel can’t do it. He can’t walk down the aisle and stand with Dean like they’re a happy couple. He can’t lie in front of Dean’s wonderful family. He just  _can’t_.

“I have something to say.”

Gabriel, of all people, pausing in his officiating of the ceremony. “Yes, Angel?”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean hisses.

But Castiel pays him no mind. “Hello. Hi. Thank you all so much for being here. I… have a bit of an announcement regarding the wedding. A confession, really.”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean hisses again, tugging on his cuff. “The hell’re you doing?”

“I’m Canadian,” Castiel continues. “Yes, I’m from Canada, and I have an expired visa and was about to be deported… and because I don’t want to leave this wonderful country of yours, I forced Dean to marry me.”

“Cas, stop it.”

“…You see,  Dean has always been extremely loyal and has an incredibly work ethic.” Cas turns to John. “Something I believe he learned from you,. And for three years I watched him work harder than anybody else at our company. I knew that if I threatened to destroy his career, he would do just about anything. So, I blackmailed him. I forced him to come down here and lie to all of you. And I thought… I truly believed it would be easy to watch him do it.” Castiel takes a deep, shaky breath. He swallows thickly. “But it wasn’t. It turns out it’s not easy to ruin someone’s life… once you find out how wonderful they are.” Cas turns back to John. “You have a beautiful family,” he says softly. “Please don’t let this come between you. It was my fault.”

Dean isn’t having that. “No, it was both of us. Cas—”

“Dean, this was a business deal and you held up your end… but now the deal is off. I’m sorry.” Castiel turns to Gabriel, of all people. “I need you to drive me to the airport, please.”

“Anything, Angel.”

And Castiel is gone.

Dean can’t seem to process what just happened.

Fortunately, Deanna seems to be thinking enough for everyone. “Dean Winchester, what the hell were you thinkin’?!”

“Gammy, I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry_?” Mary parrots back. “Dean, you  _lied_ to us!”

“Just gimme a minute to get my head on straight, okay? I just—I need some air.”

Dean runs into the house in some misguided attempt to stop Castiel from leaving, but when eh reaches his room, the only thing left of his boss is a note:

_Dean,_

_You were right: this books is special. I lied because I knew publishing meant I’d lose you as an assistant, but you have a truly extraordinary eye. I’ll make sure we buy it before I leave._

_Have an amazing life, you deserve it._

_Castiel_

“Well… that was crazy.”

Lisa in standing in his doorway.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters. “Fuckin’ insane.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yes—you know what? No. No, I am not  _okay_. You wanna know what the problem is?”

Lisa nods.

“The problem is that this man—” Dean gestures to the letter. “Is a monumental pain in my ass. I mean, first there’s the whole leaving thing. But fine, I get it; it’s a sham wedding. Kinda stressful. Whatever. But then he goes and leaves this  _note_? He doesn’t even have the goddamn decency to do it to my face! Three years.  _Three years_  I work with this nutcase. Never once has he ever had a nice thing to say and now he goes and writes  _this crap_?!"

“Dean.”

Dean shakes his head. “We had a deal, Lis!”

“Dean.”

“What?!”

“…Are you gonna go after him?”

And that’s how Dean ends up trying to push his way past his relatives and out of the house to reach his ridiculous fake fiancée. Unfortunately, ‘try’ is the operative word here.

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“I gotta talk to him.”

John rolls his eyes. “Why would you do that? He  _left,_ son.”

“Stay out of it, Dad.”

“Boys!” Deanna scolds.

“Dean, you’re my boy, I won’t let you—”

“I’m not asking your permission!”

“John! Dean! Mom? Mom?!”

Deanna is on the floor, clutching her chest. “I-I think Im having a heart attack.”

And  _that_ ’s how the Winchesters all end up piled into an ambulance and head for the hospital, a gaggle of adopted family in tow. Dean refuses to let go of Gammy’s hand, and Sam holds her other tightly… But Deanna isn’t paying attention to that. She’s looking at John.

“You two will never see eye,” she wheezes. “Don’t you understand that? But you’re  _family._ ” Before they can begin to protest, the older woman narrows her gaze, nodding at the both of them sternly. “Promise me you’ll stand by Dean,” she says. “Even if you don’t agree with him.”

John sighs, but mutters: “I promise.”

“Dean, you promise me you’ll work harder to be part of this family.”

“I promise, Gammy.”

Deanna sighs dramatically. “Well then, I can die in peace.”

She closes her eyes.

And then promptly opens them.

“Huh, I guess there’s a waiting list.” Leaning up, Deanna Winchester unstraps herself like it’s nothing, waving off the paramedic when he fusses over her. “Take us to the airport.”

“Uh, ma’am, we’re not allowed to—”

“Henry Ferris, don’t make me call your mother.”

Mary glares. “You mean you faked a heart attack!? Mom!”

“What?” she demands. “It was the only way to get these two idiots to shut up and get us to the airport fast enough!”

But they don’t make it in time. And when Dean is holding the useless radio, Ash apologizing profusely on the other line, he’s hit with a startling, stunning, and kind of scary realization.

As usual, during this awesome epiphany, his family is talking. Loudly.

“The hell’s goin’ on?” John grouches.

“Cas is gone,” Mary says sadly.

“So?" 

“So, your son didn’t get a chance to tell him that he loves him!” she hisses, slapping his arm roughly. “And Dean didn’t get to hear it back.”

“Mary, they were pretending, how could you possibly know that the editor—”

“If he didn’t love our son, John, he wouldn’t have left.”

“Am I the only one not gettin’ this?”

Deanna nods. “Yup.”

With a sigh, John scrubs his hand over his face, approaching his sons cautiously. Sam’s got Dean in a one armed hug, and his eldest is currently staring blankly at the ground, frowning. “Dean?”

Dean looks up.

“I’m sorry, son. I didn’t know how you felt about him.”

Dean nods, but his gaze gets stuck on the flight tower. “I… gotta go.”

***

When Dean Winchester finally bursts through the office doors, he is convinced he’s going to puke. Between the plane ride and running across town and the general anxiety, Dean is sure he’s either going to be sick, or he’s going to pass out. Possibly both.

“Andy! Andy, I need for you to send the boxes in my office to this address…”

_Fuck_ no.

Growling, Dean tears through the rows of cubicles, stopping right in front of Castiel himself. The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to look up from his papers, but his hands are trembling in a way that makes Dean hopeful. “Dean.”

“Hey.”

“Why are you panting?”

“Because I’ve been running.”

“Really,” Cas says, trying to appear disinterested. “From Kansas.”

“No, from JFK.”

“The airport?"

“Yeah. Well, no. We got caught in traffic like sixty blocks away.”

“I thought you hated flying.”

“I do.” A breath. “I need to talk to you.”

Castiel hums, the sound very clearly forced to sound casual. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk; I need to catch the 5:45 to Toronto.” He beings moving past Dean. “So, if you’ll excuse me…”

But Dean’s hand is on his chest. “Cas."

“…I need the boxes to go out today…”

“Cas.”

“…I want to make sure everything is—”

“Cas—Jesus,  _stop talking_!” Dean’s chest is heaving as he looks into wide blue eyes, his hand fisting the material of Castiel’s shirt. “I gotta say something.”

“Okay,” Cas allows quietly.

“It’ll only take a sec.”

“Fine. What?”

Dean is speaking before he actually knows what he’s going to say: “Three days ago, I loathed you,” he says lowly. “I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab. Or poisoned.”

“Lovely.”

“I told you to stop talking.”

Castiel looks offended.

“But then,” Dean continues. “We had our little adventure down in Kansas and things started to change. Like when we kissed. And you told me about your tattoo… Even when you checked me out when we were naked.”

Andy snorts. “Naked?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Cas assures him.

Dean smirks. “Yeah, you did…. But I didn’t realize any of this until I was standing alone, under a barbecued cherry tree… husband-less. Now, you can imagine how pissed off I was when it suddenly dawned on me that the guy I’ve fallen in love with is gonna be kicked out of the country. So, Cas: marry me, because I’d like to date you.”

Castiel looks like he’s dangerously close to crying. But instead, the editor tugs Dean close, leaning over to whisper into his ear. “Trust me, you really don’t want to be with me.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “I do.”

“No. Dean, there is a reason I’ve been alone all this time. I’m comfortable that way. And I think it would be worlds easier if we just forgot about everything and I just left.”

Dean nods, but does not look away. He doesn’t even blink. “You’re right. That’d be easier.”

Cas bites his lip. He plays with his fingers and looks at his shoes before hesitantly meeting Dean’s gaze again. “I’m scared,” he confesses.

“Me, too.”

Dean steps closer cautiously then, letting go of Cas’s shirt as he accidentally brushes their noses together. Carefully cupping Castiel’s face, Dean leans in to give him a kiss.

The entire office gasps.

Dean and Cas are not paying attention. They’re too lost in each other, pressing up against the solid heat of another body and moving together. It’s Cas who truly moves first, keeping the kiss relatively chaste but for the small nips he delivers to Dean’s bottom lip. Dean’s hands move down to Castiel’s hips while the other drapes his arms about his shoulders. When they finally drift away, Dean nudges their noses affectionately, pressing another soft kiss to Cas’s plush mouth as the editor smiles. “Aren’t you supposed to get down on your knee or something to that effect?”

Dean grins. “I’m gonna take that as a ‘yes’.”

“Oh,” Castiel breathes as Dean moves in again. “Okay.”

Their second kiss is less innocent as the first, but doesn’t go anything past tongue. Dean is one more tug of his hair to having his way with Cas on the nearest desk, but Andy’s whistle breaks them apart, flushed and smiling.

“Yeah, Dean, show’m who’s boss!”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

But that doesn’t stop he and Dean from disappearing into his large, spacious office and making out like teenagers against Cas’s big wooden desk. Dean t-shirt is pushed up to his shoulders and Castiel’s is untucked and more than half unbuttoned, their shoes kicked off and Cas’s legs wrapped around Dean’s waist. His tie is haphazardly loose and his hair is askew, mouth swollen and pink as he pushes pens and papers to the floor behind him. Dean whimpers and groans into his skin. “Fuck, Cas—”

“Shhhh, more kissing.”

This is how Agent Henrickson finds them.

***

“So,” Victor says, eyeing Dean and Cas’s clasped hands warily. “You two are engaged again.”

“Yes.”

“Yup.”

It’s their first appointment with Immigration, and both men are dressed in significantly more clothing than the last time they’d seen the Agent. Cas wears a heavy, comfy-looking sweater, one of Dean’s t-shirts layered underneath. Dean sports a band tee and hoodie.

“You sure you wanna go through with this? Because one wrong answer and I’m gonna take you down.”

Dean and Cas look slightly disturbed at the impassioned warning, but nod anyway, Cas squeezing Dean’s hand as the other gives his fiancée a sweet kiss on the cheek. Castiel blushes and smiles. Dean returns the expression until Victor clears his throat.

“Okay, boys. Let’s do it.”

***

Cas groans as the phone rings, the mass in his arms moving to reach for the blaring device. Lazily, Castiel rolls over to spoon against Dean’s back, pressing soft, wet kisses to his fiancée’s shoulder.

“…Yeah, I’ll have the next chapter by next week, Pam. Jesus. No, I know, I get it. I—”

Cas nips at the notch of Dean’s spine.

“I gotta go bye.”

Smiling, Dean growls, playfully rolling over and pinning Cas to the mattress as he gives him a sweet kiss good morning, Cas’s bare legs wrapping around Dean’s equally bare waist. They gasp together, rutting sloppy and lazy in the soft light of their apartment, tangled in sheets and each other.

When they lose themselves with pleasure it’s with Cas buried inside Dean, both them panting. Dean’s stomach growls right as Cas says ‘happy anniversary’. The pair grin. But instead of cuddling for as long as possible as per their usual morning sex routine, Dean carefully slides out of bed, leaving Cas with a parting kiss and ruffle of his dark hair as he makes his way into the bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and a little box, placing the latter on the nightstand as he climbs back into bed, wiping them both off. “What’s in the box?” Cas asks curiously.

“I got you earrings for our anniversary.”

Castiel snorts, but kisses him anyway. “I hope they’re clip-ons.”

“Nothing but the best for my pumpkin.”

Though it’s all playful teasing, Cas becomes warm anyway, turning away and reaching for his own bedside table. He pulls out a packet of pink strips of construction paper and blushes profusely as he hands them over to Dean. “I didn’t know what to get you so I looked for ideas on the Internet.”

Dean is grinning like a crazy person. “One massage. One free dinner. One blowjob. One lavender bath; sex included. One night at the movies… Cas, these are awesome.”

“You like them?” Castiel asks, embarrassed. “When we said no spending money I didn’t really know what to do—”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss. “They’re perfect. When do they start? How long do I have to use them?”

Cas purses his lips. “They start right now… and there’s no expiration date. In fact, if you read the fine print, some are good for more than one use… barring certain perks of the first, of course.”

“I was only gonna make you breakfast,” Dean murmurs. “I was supposed to get up earlier than you and bring it to bed.”

They share soft, sweet kisses, tracing over planes of exposed skin as they talk. “That sounds wonderful,” Cas whispers. “I’m getting hungry. What are you going to make?”

“Pancakes,” Dean grins. “And that weird birchir-muesli thing you like.”

Kissing is hard due to all the smiling going on.

“Still not as good as sex coupons though.”

Cas laughs. He threads his hands into Dean’s lighter hair, nipping the tip of Dean’s nose before placing a kiss there. “Well, you always have the clip-on earrings.”

“True,” Dean agrees. “Speaking of those fashionable pieces of jewelry…” He snatches the box off the bedside table and hands it to Cas, lying between his legs, face level with Castiel’s tummy. He peppers small, tickling little kisses near the other’s belly button while Cas opens his gift.

“I thought we said no money.”

“Can you really put a price on fashion? ‘Sides, it’s just a little something.”

Cas raises a dubious brow.

“Just open it, Cas.”

When Cas opens the box, another one lies inside. When he opens  _that one_ , a slew of hand-cut heart confetti tumble out, revealing a simple silver band. “So,” Dean says, his voice suddenly shaky and cheeks blossoming with colour. “Will you marry me?”

Castiel kisses him senseless.


End file.
